


The Son of Iron

by FanGirlFreak16



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Varian and the Seven Kingdoms
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Beginnings, Childhood, Childhood Trauma, Coming Out, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Feels, Family Issues, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Scars, Tears, Trauma, may be triggering, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanGirlFreak16/pseuds/FanGirlFreak16
Summary: Everyone has a place from which they come.Hugo is no exception to this.
Relationships: Cyrus & Hugo (Disney: Varian and the Seven Kingdoms), Donella & Cyrus, Donella & Hugo (Disney: Varian and the Seven Kingdoms)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	The Son of Iron

**Author's Note:**

> This story is compiled of many one-shots all circulated around my own timeline of Hugo's past. 
> 
> Other writers' OC's will be featured. For instance, the character Solomon will be used and referenced relatively frequently. Solomon belongs to TheArtistsMuse. 
> 
> All of these stories are heavily inspired by many other writers and artists from a discord server. I want to thank them for their help, guidance, support, and permission to use certain characters. 
> 
> I headcanon Hugo as having French as his first language. 
> 
> Warning: Many topics discussed in these fics may be triggering.
> 
> Warning: This chapter has somewhat graphic depictions of injuries.

The Iron Kingdom was particularly chilly at this time of the year. And while most kids in other kingdoms would be cuddled up with their parents by a warm fire, that wasn't an option Hugo nor the dozens of kids who followed behind him had.

What they _did_ have was Solomon. Solomon, however, was anything but loving and sweet. He was ruthless, cunning, and two-faced. He would make himself out to be this sweet man who cared for children and would help them in tight criminal situations when really he wanted an army of children to do crimes for him—anything to make a quick buck.

Swiping a loose strand of blonde hair behind his ear, Hugo shushed the starving children behind him. Solomon had placed Hugo as the leader of their current mission, an act that Solomon frequently did. Hugo was perhaps the sneakiest and most cunning child Solomon had in his "ranks," if that's how they were referred to.

"Ok," he whispered to the kids that stared at him, eyes all hollow and lifeless. He counted ten children in his head, not including himself. _Even numbers, not including me,_ he thought. "Belle, you and Tameron take the south wing. There's plenty of jewels there that'll get us millions if our cards are played right. But you must watch out for guards." He informed the two.

Belle gave a gentle nod. "Oui."

Tameron rolled his eyes but nodded regardless.

"If you're seen, evacuate _immediately_ ," Hugo stressed. "They have weapons that will outdo our switchblades. Your best bet is to stay in the shadows."

"I don't know why we have to listen to _you_ ," Tameron grumbled, arms folded over his chest.

Hugo frowned. Tameron always seemed to be irritated that Solomon put Hugo in charge. Hugo loved the boy's irritation, however. "Because Solomon put me in charge. And if you'd like to stay, I suggest vous fermez la bouche et écoutez **₁**." Hugo responded smugly, eliciting a giggle from Belle.

In the midst of Hugo relishing in Tameron's baffled state, Hugo felt a gentle tug on his sleeve. Upon looking down, he saw the smallest boy that was assigned to his team. He was one that Hugo had grown to be rather fond of, if he was honest. The boy couldn't be more than four or five, but no one genuinely knew their own ages. "Oui?" Hugo asked.

Alaire looked at him with the biggest pastel green eyes Hugo had ever seen. He was an enthusiastic kid, always ready to take on danger, but he could be rather levelheaded. A trait that Hugo knew would make for a good leading trait when he was older. Alaire, however, knew not much English and spoke primarily in French. "What am I to do?" He asked in French.

Hugo thought back to the tasks at hand, wondering exactly where to put him. As much as he wished to keep the boy at his side, Hugo had the most dangerous job: infiltrate the weaponry room.

He wasn't ready for Alaire to put himself in that much danger.

"Go on with Belle and Tameron," He responded in French. "You're good at lock picking. They'll need that."

Alaire gave an enthusiastic nod before Hugo continued to assign roles.

Before he knew it, everyone was in their proper place and executing their assignments. Hugo waited momentarily before heading in, waiting for the sign that July and Emile had successfully distracted the guards by the weaponry vault.

He waited maybe five minutes before he was given the signal.

Crawling through vents was easy enough. Hugo wasn't enormous height or diameter wise, for he was but nine (though he wasn't aware). He looked through the slots in certain ducts, checking on the others and how their portion of the mission was going.

Once satisfied with what he saw, he continued his slow trek to the weaponry room. Everything seemed to be going off without a hitch, which Hugo was thankful for.

Until it all came crashing down.

The first thing Hugo heard was a blaring alarm. His head shot to the duct's wall, looking for a slot to peer through. He crawled to the nearest slot and spied through with his unspeckled emerald green eyes. He squinted, trying to get his eyes to focus more on what he was seeing. The moment he noticed what looked to be long, brown hair fleeing from a moderately tall individual, he knew they'd been caught.

He turned wide-eyed, quickly changing direction in the air duct. They'd decided earlier, should anything happen, to meet in the North wing. The North wing was by far the least secured area, and there was nothing particularly worthwhile protecting there, so guards shouldn't congregate there in the event of them suspecting an intrusion.

However, as Hugo was making his way through the ducts, he felt the metal underneath him quiver. Before he had time to react, the metal gave way underneath him and left him nearly splattering on the floor.

 _Nearly_.

Through whatever luck he had, his hands managed to catch the lip of the neighboring duct. The loud crash was sure to alert nearby guards, he knew, and if they noticed the duct on the floor (which who wouldn't), they could suspect one of two things.

1\. Whatever infiltrator was in the vicinity had climbed back up into the duct to finish their getaway.

Or

2\. The infiltrator was somewhere in the room.

Not knowing which option would be best, Hugo settled for falling from the duct and moved the fallen duct just so so it looked as if it was used to boost someone back up into the ducts.

He heard footsteps echo throughout the tiled hall just outside his room and made no time in hiding. He threw open the closest cabinet, one near the floor, and crammed himself inside, knees folded up uncomfortably to his chest.

He held his breath in suspense as he heard the door to the room get thrown open.

Hugo cared not to peek out the door of his cabinet. Anything that could give his cover away was not to be done.

He heard broken sentences and footsteps approaching his hiding space. Hugo put his hands up to his mouth in an attempt to block out all possible sounds he could make. The footsteps echoed in the room with heavy thuds, as if taunting him.

The relief that washed over him when he heard the sound of the ducts moving was immense. _They really went looking for me through the ducts,_ Hugo thought relievedly.

He was quick to exit the cabinet once he was sure the goons were away. He made a beeline down the halls, stopping to hide behind a wall every once and while when he noticed someone approaching.

His heart pounded heavily inside his chest, both from the fear and overexertion.

The look of shock on his face when he entered the North wing, only to find it empty, made the air in his lungs leave from terror. Had none of them made it back yet? Did they get the wings mixed up? Did _he_ get the wings mixed up? Before he had the chance to check, he heard a quiet "psst."

Hugo quickly whirled around, eyes locking on a storm window near the middle of the wall. He ran over immediately when he noticed July. "C'mon," she whispered with urgency, reaching her hand through the now opened storm window. "They could be coming any minute!" Next to Hugo, July spoke the best English.

Hugo was quick to grab her hand and work his way through the storm window.

That's when they all heard the boom.

It echoed loudly throughout the building and resonated within their ears all the way outside. Hugo panicked and started shoving everyone away once he was fully out. "Run!" He yelled in English, followed by a "Run!" in French.

He didn't have to tell the children twice. Most had already been running before he said anything.

However, that was when he realized a grave mistake of his. His own running faltered as he tried to count the heads of the running children.

His heart sunk when he only counted seven.

"Hugo!" There was a firm tug at his arm, which nearly made him topple over onto whoever was yanking him. "Hugo, run!" Daxton yelled, trying to get the older boy to move.

Hugo shook his head, thoughts running wild. He only had seven. Seven children. This mission had ten, not including him.

So, where were the other three?

He yanked his arm from Daxton's arm. "Run back to Solomon's base," He stated, keeping his voice as level as possible. "All of you. Keep running, and don't look back."

Rain began to fall steadily, and Hugo bit back the urge to groan. As if he wasn't worried enough, it just _had_ to rain. He _hated_ the rain.

Daxton looked wide-eyed and nervous. "But-"

"That's an order!" Hugo barked, hair starting to stick to his face due to the rain. "Run. Please make sure _all_ of them run and don't look back. You have seven with you. Remember that. Now run! Run! I command it!" Hugo yelled before he himself booked it back in the direction of the place that held their mission.

He couldn't believe himself. How could he have forgotten the most crucial thing? Head counting and making sure everyone got out was perhaps the most important part of the mission, and he blew it.

He just hoped he wasn't too late.

Hugo entered the same way as he exited, through the open storm window. Everything had been the same as they left it aside from a couple of toppled items.

A sure-fire sign that this area had been searched.

Hugo began to run. He knew that they couldn't have been in the East pod, for that's where he had been, not yet having made it to the vault.

Before he could ponder more on his thoughts, however, a blood-curdling scream ripped its way through the building. Hugo stiffened.

 _South_.

 _Oh, Demanitus, no,_ he thought grimly before booking it toward the south pod. The south pod was a room that went underground, down a flight of stairs. Hugo hadn't thought much of it at the time, and perhaps it didn't matter, but he took the stairs down as opposed to finding a safer route.

Before he could make it fully down, he gripped a pole of the railing tightly, a hand flying to his mouth as nausea rolled over him.

Two bodies.

Two bodies that _he_ had been responsible for.

Belle lay there in a pool of her own blood, head seeming to be completely smashed in. He wouldn't have been able to discern her if it wasn't for her body. If his eyes followed a couple of meters away from her, he saw Tameron, who wasn't facing him, but he could tell by the red liquid surrounding him that he wasn't breathing.

As if those sights weren't enough, the next one really made him want to scream.

Alaire, the boy who had become somewhat of a brother to Hugo, was being clubbed by a goon. Hugo couldn't hear screams, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to. While screams would mean Alaire was alive, it would also mean he was suffering. In this instance, there was _nothing_ Hugo could do.

Hugo had been too late.

Much too late.

He stood there, a hand gripped tightly to the pole of the railing, hair stuck all over to his face and his clothes stuck to his body from the rain, eyes wide as dinner plates as he took in the horror scene before him.

The horror scene _he_ created.

The rest was a blur. He knew he ran back out; he just wasn't sure when. He knew he made it out to the streets; he just wasn't sure how. He knew he was safe, but he didn't _care_.

Three kids, _three kids_ , were _dead_ because of _him_. He had metaphorical blood on his hands, all because he wasn't careful enough. He didn't execute a better plan.

Now Belle, Tameron...

...Alaire...

It was _his_ fault. All his fault!

His hands moved to grip his soaking wet hair, the harder downpour not helping his soaked situation whatsoever.

Falling to his knees, Hugo let out a pained and guilty scream.

One he was sure resonated throughout the Iron Kingdom.


End file.
